


Closet

by StrwbrryMlkshakes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24487990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrwbrryMlkshakes/pseuds/StrwbrryMlkshakes
Summary: It had been an unfortunate (or perhaps fortunate)  happenstance of being at the wrong place at the right time which led Dorian to being squashed within one of Skyhold’s many storage cupboards with his mouth covered by firm, cool hands and pressed body to body with Inquisitor Trevelyan.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	Closet

It had been an unfortunate ( _or perhaps fortunate_ ) happenstance of being at the wrong place at the right time which led Dorian to being squashed within one of Skyhold’s many storage cupboards with his mouth covered by firm, cool hands and pressed body to body with Inquisitor Trevelyan. Why? Well, Theodore had been evading Vivienne and her talks of magic and politics— and himself? Dorian had stumbled in to him on Theodore’s pursuit of freedom from said witch of a woman. With little time for discussion Theodore had dragged him into a closet and had shut him up quite physically with not a by-your-leave except a whispered ‘Shush, Vivienne’s coming’ before leaving him shoved rather awkwardly with his back against a wall and Theodore’s own body pressed against his front. 

This wouldn’t have been an issue if the proximity to him didn’t invade Dorian’s senses with the sweet smell of Dawn Lotus and what seemed to be a hint of cinnamon. Or the fact that at such close range he could feel the Inquisitor’s puffs of breath and though thick clothing material mercifully prevented any sensation of the Inquisitor’s body pressed against his, the mere fact that it was indeed pressed against his own left him flushed red. 

It had been weeks since the last time they had even exchanged a flirtatious quip and Dorian refused to humiliate himself further by admitting that he was internally going barking mad. He had been thus reduced to waking up involuntarily finding himself masturbating. Like a wet behind the ears little boy with a first crush. He loathed the fact that like an addiction he subconsciously orbited around the strapping mage, as if he were some simpering maiden swooning upon the sight of a dashing chevalier. 

Consequently, he was irrefutably fucking _hard_ and his heart was trying to beat right out of his chest. It felt like time dragged longer than it logically did, leaving them in tense silence before it was finally broken. The coast potentially clear. 

“Maker preserve me, she’s been trying to push her conservative views on me for weeks, I don’t know how long polite deflection will last before I say something I regret.” Theodore huffed in the darkness, “Thanks for bearing with me, Dorian.” 

He would have responded, but his mouth was still covered. He gave a muffled ‘ _hmph_ ’ and delighted in the scramble that Theodore did in his haste to retract his hands. 

“And here I thought you just couldn’t get enough of my delectable presence and needed a quick romp in the cupboards.” Dorian managed to respond, his voice a bit hoarser than he would have liked to have presented. But damn him it had been so _long_.

As his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, he felt his heart jump to his throat as he noticed,through the light shining between the gap in the door, that Theodore’s face was redder than usual. 

“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, this _is_ a rather cosy little closet isn’t it?” Theodore replied humorously and with a bit of bluster. His eyes crinkling in amusement and an undertone of flirtation.

 _Maker_ he had missed that teasing baritone. 

Perhaps it was the darkness which lowered Dorian’s cognitive inhibitions, or perhaps it was the fact that there wasn’t much blood up there to begin with. Maybe it was because beneath the lust had been a shameful aching in his heart and a longing he had been failing at suppressing upon the Inquisitor’s absence due to his duties in the Storm Coast this past week. Whatever it was that possessed him, it made him reach out for the hand which had not long ago been pressed to his mouth and almost delicately lifting it back to his face, he kissed Theodore’s pulse point eliciting a sharp inhale. It spurred him on, as if he were in a drunken haze he parted his lips and gave a light lick, trailing a wet line up Theodore’s open palm to the tips of his middle finger. He idly wondered if the Inquisitor’s pupils were blown due to the darkness or lust. Hearing no protests, he gave the tips of Theodore’s finger a little suck before taking it all into his mouth. His tongue flat against the digit then curling in ways he wanted to on something much larger. 

“ _Dorian,_ ” 

One word. His name. Yet it was uttered in a reverence none had ever done so before him. Gravelly, full of desire, an unspoken worship that struck him open and made Dorian’s heart fill like an overflowing bathtub. His eyes watered as his lungs ceased function. 

Hope was a dangerous thing. Dorian had to remind himself that this would not go the way he desired. His dreams would not be fulfilled within a dusty closet. This was purely carnal. 

He released Theodore’s hands and roughly tugged the man in by his pristinely ironed doublet. Dorian kissed like a man who was dying of thirst. He kissed the way the most devout of Andrastian’s prayed; with such fervour and open abandon as if the answers to every misfortune in his existence lay in Theodore’s lips. 

He felt fingers run roughly through his hair and another grip his waist. Stepping forward, Dorian none so gently pushed Theodore against the rickety shelf behind him and kissed a frantic trail from the corner of Theodore’s lips, to his jaw, and as he proceeded to masterfully undo the wretched metal buttons in his way, he nibbled a desperate trail down chiselled plains until he was on his knees and before him were drawstrings to his goal. 

“ _Dorian._ ” moaned Theodore once again, voice deep and low— barely a moan and more the rumble of a man thoroughly in the throes of desire. To be _wanted_ , even for a moment, by this man left Dorian’s hand shaking.

He had never felt as close to the Maker as he did in this moment; blasphemously on his knees, sinning in the most debase way a man could, worshipping someone very real, very mortal and Dorian’s cock was so wickedly hard it was weeping trapped within his breeches. 

It didn’t take much effort to free Theodore from his pants, gripping him in his hands, feeling the heavy weight; hot, twitching eagerly in his grasp. He was the master at giving pleasure, never having been a prude, but this was more. He wanted to drown in Theodore and never leave. If he could have stopped time and lived in this single instance, Dorian would have. 

Theodore whispered his name like they were kisses on his skin, soft and full of affection, Dorian felt as if he was dying and living all at once. His one fatal mistake, he realised suddenly, to have _caught feelings_. Ardently. He could almost taste the devastation the rejection would bring him. 

That familiar weighted feeling in his gut, the ever-looming sensation of dread. Helplessness. His heart tying itself with his lungs and tear-ducts— unable to breathe yet every pitiful beat of his heart pumping out tears he would not be able to stop in the quiet solitude of his own room. The inevitable yearning of _what could have been_. This would be the deepest grave he would ever dig. He almost wanted to beg for mercy.

_Please don’t break my heart. Please love me._

How utterly pathetic.

He once had a lover, back when he was younger and more naive, say that they loved the passion in which their tumultuous relationship pushed him into. He had been told he was more forward, more intense. His fervid proclamations of love, his increased desperation to make things work, to **prove** something, had made his lover enjoy the pitfalls. The sex too had apparently been elevated to new heights. Dorian himself had never told him that it had broken his heart a little to hear that. He would have traded every impassioned sex they had during the bad times for a lifetime of celibacy if it had meant but a happy life together. It was all he had ever wanted. To be loved. To be accepted. To be enough.

It was as if time was speeding up and slowing down as Dorian seared every second, every sensation, taste, smell, touch, into his memories but all too soon it was coming to an end as he felt the telltale break in rhythm, the shuddering gasps of strain, the fast whispered mantra within the darkness.

“ _Dorian. Dorian. Dorian. I’m close— **fuck** — Dorian_”

If all the music in the world suddenly disappeared, Dorian thought that so long as he still had this, everything would be perfect. 

“ _My love—_ “

He made a wretched noise, almost disbelieving at what he had just heard come out of Theodore’s mouth. He knew it was just passion speaking but he couldn’t stop, shamelessly abandoning any semblance of control as he retracted one hand to undo his pants and stroked himself in sync with the other hand around Theodore’s. He was consumed. Tongue pressed to Theodore’s tip, mouth open, begging.

“ _Amatus. Amatus. Amatus._ ”

Dorian couldn’t help the words he sobbed out quietly.

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum_ ” was dragged, moaning, from parched lips. 

“I’m coming—“

Hot, thick wetness splashed onto his face as with a hushed cry, Dorian spilled onto the cold stone beneath him. 

He slumped, panting, as Theodore leaned back against the shelf in weak-legged exhaustion.

Silence reigned for a heartbeat before Dorian willed himself to get up and clean himself up enough to regain some dignity. 

“Marvelous time, we’ll definitely have to do this again.” He blurted out in forced casualty. 

“Dorian—“

“ **No**! Uh, _no_ need to explain anything, I seduced you, what an evil tevinter mage I am, we had a grand time. I’ll see you—“

“Dorian. I love you.”

He felt his heart leap and then stop. Like a dam with holes, he felt the beginnings of a trickle.

“What?”

“I want _more_ with you, Dorian. I mean— I’ll understand if you want something different. I just, I wanted to have had this conversation at a more...well, the last thing I thought we’d be doing was— in a _closet_ of all—“

It was a flood which left Dorian trembling as he pulled Theodore in and this kiss was less but more. Different. Clinging, desperate, disbelieving yet so unbelievably hopeful. 

“Amatus,” he whispered against Theodore’s lips after a time, breathless. He was held within sturdy arms and he melted. He wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t some desire demon sent from the fade to turn him into an abomination. 

“A-ma-tus? What does that mean?”

Dorian’s lips quirked as his eyes crinkled. 

“Beloved.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorryy, I was more focused on feelings than the sex part. Tbh as a lesbian I honestly couldn't really go into graphic detail, Idk what the peen does. I like feelings though. Especially Dorian's feelings. Tbh Dorian had made me cry in Inquisition. Anyways, peace. Hoped you liked it! Sorry again for it being kinda plotless. And the fact that the confession diverged from the game. Ayy.


End file.
